The Coffee Shop AU
by TheInvisibleGurlz
Summary: Callum, Lin, and Moussa escaped their captors, killed the grandmaster, and proved their allegiance to the assassins. At least, that's what they argued when William Miles contacted them. Apparently not. Now they have to work in a bureau masquerading as a coffee shop. It can't be that hard, right?
1. Chapter 1

**The Coffee Shop AU**

**A.N.: Had this thought while browsing Tumblr and stumbling upon a "what actually happens at a coffee shop" post, and since Ubisoft isn't using these characters, I may as well. Enjoy!**

Alan Rikkin's blood had stained Cal's hands.

It'd been warm. And thick. And difficult to get out of his clothes. (Thank God for Lin's not-at-all suspicious knowledge of getting blood out of clothes.)

He'd killed a man, not for his own agenda or on his own convictions, but for an organization he barely understood, and the second they make contact with that organization, _this _was the thanks he got?!

Callum turned from the line in front of him and started grinding espresso beans for a pour over.

In all honesty, none of them were what one would call "qualified to run a café" in any regard, but they had quickly learned what they could and could not do.

For instance, Moussa spent about ten minutes performing magic tricks for each customer and ended up pushing the line out the door, hence why he was usually doing the washing up; he couldn't waste time.

Lin became a ticking time bomb if she were forced to interact with people too much, so she was mostly on assembly, blending, pouring, pumping, and stirring with unmatched grace and precision, which made it look like she'd been doing this for ages.

And Callum was on register because…well, he'd worked as a cashier for a bit; that was close enough, right?

When that Miles guy had intercepted them, he wasted no time in assigning them to positions in a bureau, where they would "act as checkpoints for other assassins and gain revenue for the cause."

Of course, by "act as checkpoints" he'd meant, "be suspicious of anyone who ordered a flat white with pump of raspberry syrup" and by "gain revenue for the cause" he meant "humiliate yourselves in the name of customer service so that your tips can go anywhere but you."

It didn't matter. Soon enough, they'd probably determine that the bleeding effect wasn't major enough to pose a problem (he totally wasn't seeing Aguilar in line. Totally.) and they'd start sending them on missions. He just had to be patient.

Patience was not his strongsuit.

Still, it was just coffee.

How hard could it be?

**A.N.: I've got a couple "episode" ideas floating around in my head, but if you want to review and add your own experiences as baristas or let me know if what I'm writing doesn't square with your experience, I'd greatly appreciate it.**

**Please follow, favorite, and review, and thank you for your time.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

For once, it wasn't that busy. It probably would be later, but now they only had a handful of customers, most of whom had already ordered.

Callum was prepping the coffee, having negotiated a break from register, so Lin had taken over for him.

"Hey sweetheart," said a man in a thick English accent as he sidled up to the counter, leaning a little too far into it. "can I please get a large flat white with a pump of raspberry syrup?" Lin nodded and put in the order.

"Ooh, also, could you add one of those club sandwiches?" She nodded again and added the item. "Thanks, love."

Cal and Moussa eyed the man suspiciously. He didn't look like anyone they knew, but it wasn't unusual for people to genuinely order that coffee. The accent wasn't much help either; they were near an airport so tourists came in all the time.

He supposed they'd find out soon enough. Either he'd be out of their hair within the hour or he'd stay until closing where they could take care of business.

Cal tuned out as the man continued flirting with her while he paid. She silently handed him the cup.

_FLAT WHITE_

_+1 RASP_

_+LOVE_

Cal smirked, and prepped the drink as requested.

* * *

So, the man, was in deed, an assassin. Awiergan, from the English division, which explained the accent. He'd come to explain that he'd be taking some American assassins to England with him as reinforcements for the time being.

"What do you say, love? I could give you a personal London tour." He leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on the table as he smirked at Lin.

She knocked his legs back down. "No, thank you."

Awiergan frowned. "Why not?"

"I had Callum spit in your coffee. You figure it out." She dryly responded. Awiergan glanced from his empty cup to Cal, who only smiled back.

He got up in a huff and stormed out, leaving the others to clean up and finish clearing away the chairs. Moussa was mopping the floors when Callum spoke up.

"By the way, Lin, you might want to look into-"

"If you say, 'a relationship' I will snap your fucking neck."

"I was going to say 'the dance studio down the street' but..." Lin pressed her lips together and nodded silently.

"Why the extreme reaction?" he asked after a long pause. Moussa gave her a sympathetic expression.

"Just something my parents pushed me to do back home in China." Lin shook her head absently. "'_Stop stalling a get a man.' 'You'll be lonely if you don't get married soon_.' I hated it."

"Why _not_ get married, though. Can't be worse than this." Lin breathed a strained sigh while Moussa grimaced.

"Just not something I ever felt a desire to do."

Cal left it at that. "Fair enough. Anyway, that dance studio is looking for a part time instructor for ribbon dance. I think you'd be a shoe in."

"Thank you."

**A.N.: this was a submission for arowrimo. Thank you for your time!**


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